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I'd Rather be at the Aquarium; Sorry, but staff is mandating that this thread dies now. - Yugi
Topic Started: Aug 11 2017, 12:56 AM (3,265 Views)
Kermit
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[ *  * ]
Oh, holy hell. Saying this was gonna be bad would be the understatement of the century.



B28: EVERETT TAYLOR, START



Everett was curled up against an old shipping container, repeating the same mantra over and over again in his head.

There was no fucking way he was getting out alive. No exceptions.

He momentarily lifted his head up to look out over the ocean. Maybe, if he just jumped in... maybe that'd be the best option. It sure beat being carved up by some sick fuck with a fucking electric carving knife or being shot in the fucking leg, and with Everett's physical condition he'd probably just die from a fucking heart attack-WAIT!

Electric carving knife. Weapon. Weapons were in bag. Bag! How could he forget the fucking bag? Maybe, just maybe, if he got a gun, he'd have a chance.

Everett stood up, walked a few steps away from the shipping container, and flitted his eyes around, searching for something, anything that looked like a bag. His eyes caught something black sitting atop the shipping container he'd been leaning against. W-Was that a bag? He could see something like a strap hanging down from the object. Everett's mind clicked.

Bags had straps!

Everett was momentarily ecstatic—that is, until he noticed one key thing.

The bag was completely out of reach.

Everett walked up to the container and did his best to grab for it. The bag was just too far away for him to grasp. He had nothing to reach for it with, and he couldn't climb up there to get it.

He was fucked.

Everett slammed his forehead against the shipping crate and began to weep, his head resting on the cool metal of the crate.
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Primrosette
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[ *  *  * ]
This really wasn't a dream. She wished that it was and that she would wake up at home. Safely in her comfortable bed and to be able to get out of this nightmare. But that wasn't going to happen because it was really happening. It was reality for her and the others that were here.

Only one of them could live. And that didn't sit well with her at all. How could they be forced to do something so cruel and brutal? How could it be so easy for someone to just do whatever they wanted with them?

It was too easy and that really did upset her to no end. Not only that but she had witnessed the death of Mr. Dolph and she could feel the bile rising in her throat. She didn't want to let it out. She didn't want them to see how pitiful she would look by throwing up for the whole world to see. She unwillingly swallowed her sick back down and gagged a little.

Now what was she supposed to do?

((G16: SCARLETT MCAFEE start))

Scarlett let out a sigh as she heaved her bag that was on her back and she glanced at the shipping container that was close to her. She started to move towards it out of instinct. Maybe it would be a good hiding spot-

She let out a little gasp as she heard a noise and the sound of someone crying. It was understandable that someone would be in that state. Scarlett had felt like crying herself not that long ago. But she had to try to keep herself calm for the time-being.

She peeked around the container cautiously and she was staring at Everett with a concerned look. "H-Hey there. Are you alright?" She asked softly and she stayed where she was.

Just to be safe.
Edited by Primrosette, Aug 11 2017, 12:17 PM.
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Simon Leroy (Thanks to Kami!) - Deceased

Scarlett McAfee

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ItzToxie
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[ *  * ]
Hey, you see that fucked up slab of meat tied to a metal pole in some dingy warehouse? The one with the awesome fucking hair who has blood currently leaking from every orifice? Yeah, that poor fuck who looks like an extra in an Eli Roth film? That's me. Yeah, you might be wondering how long it took me to get to this point, so I'll tell you. Spoiler alert, it took just a little less than a day to get here. Right, so why am I in this shitty rusty warehouse pissing blood with a blood stained shirt jammed down my throat? Well, it all started with some unoriginal terrorists who had the creative idea to reenact a bunch of Stephen King books like The Running Man and The Long Walk. Yeah, you know what this is, I got my ass dropped off in Survival of The Fittest. Past that point, I don't know what's gonna happen, but I do know enough to tell you this; This is gonna be one shitty week.

((B029: Michael Crowe, Game Start.))

Michael Crowe had no fucking idea on what to do in a situation like this. He'd spent the last five minutes leaning on a rusty wall of some shitty shipping container, sunshine pouring in on his head. He'd spent the fifteen minutes before that curled up in a fetal position, sobbing to himself. Y'know, shit like "Why do the worst things happen to the best people?!" and "Why meeee-hee-hee?!" or of course, the ever famous, "Uwaaan-haaan hannn, uuhhh-ooooh-hooo-hoooo!" His face at this moment was still wet with tears, nose and eyes bright red, but he wasn't really crying anymore.

It was okay to vent. You weren't a pussybitch for crying unless that was all you did. Well, that, and it does make you a pussybitch if people see you doing it. Fucking cameras. Michael was gonna break these bastards teeth with his dick for this. He knew that was what he was gonna do eventually, but he didn't know how he was gonna get to that point.

That, right there, was the main dilemma. How in the fuck was he gonna use his phallus to break terrorist teeth like rock candy? It was a question that opened a lot more questions, really. Well, first off, he couldn't die. You can't facefuck CIA's Most Wanted if you're dead. Not even if you're a ghost, ghosts are intangible, they wouldn't feel it anyways. But that opens up the next question. How in the fuck was he going to stay not dead?

To be blunt, on a scale of one to ten on the how-fucked-am-I meter, with five roughly being Oberyn's popped skull, he was around Glenn getting fucking Lucille'd level. Which was a twelve.

Well obviously, he'd have to kill someone to make it home, but that seemed pretty fucked up. But if he didn't he'd wake up back on the island, unless he was shot dead by terrorists in the middle of his dick-in-eyesocket coitus with the fat fuck that sent him here. It didn't even matter if he killed Danya by that point, just the knowledge that he skullfucked him before getting got by a bunch of terrorists would be so hilarious that everyone back home would wear his face on a T-shirt. He'd be like Che Guevara, only not a murderous racist hypocrite that college SJWs with Starbucks degrees masturbate to.

Michael didn't really have time to think of the deliciously ironic hilarity of filthy commie idols used for capitalistic purposes however, so he decided to leave his little corner of the red blue and green metallic maze. Really, he didn't have time to plan anything, planning never really worked out for him anyways, so he'd just see how he went on his own. He pulled his shades from his coat pocket, and slid them over his face, hoping they'd cover up any sign that he'd been crying, before turning around and checking his bag.

His weapon didn't do much to excite him, but it wasn't bad. Shield's a shield. As long as he wasn't being shot at, he pretty much had no chance of getting his ass beat in a fight at least. He was already the most hardcore motherfucker in his class, and with this, it was pretty much clear he was untouchable at this point.

He wondered around the maze of containers around him, when he heard the sounds of some people nearby. He turned the corner and saw two people, Scarlett and Everett. He didn't really talk to Scarlett much, but Everett was someone he was familiar with. He cracked a few jokes at Everett, calling him things like "The Fat Blues Brother" but he wasn't really someone Michael spent too much time with. To be honest, Michael actually felt pretty bad seeing him there crying against the wall like that. Crying wasn't something Michael generally liked to see. People getting mad was funny, but crying... Ehhh, if there's ever something that'd make him apologize, it was realizing he made someone cry. Or, y'know, getting his ass beat, but that's a whole different scenario.

"Eeey uhh, fatboy, you aight?" Normally, that'd be something rude as hell if said by anyone else; coming from someone like Michael however, there was some sympathy behind it, Michael had been sobbing not too long ago himself, and his tone of voice showed it.

"You uhhh... you need any help?"
Edited by ItzToxie, Sep 19 2017, 06:17 PM.
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Kermit
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[ *  * ]
Everett was caught in the middle of his bout of self-doubt and mediocrity when he heard a voice.

A gasp.

Oh no...

A voice.

A voice directed at him.

Someone was here. Someone was talking to Everett. Someone who could kill Everett was here and aware of him.

He was, for some reason, somewhat okay with this. If she—the voice sounded feminine—just straight up shot Everett in the head right now, he wouldn't lose himself to this game. He could at least die as himself.

Not that that's saying much...

Everett then noticed the voice was stuttering. It was asking him if he was okay. Both of these, Everett realized, were generally not things that vicious psychopaths did, which helped to calm him down a fair bit. He slowly turned to face the voice's source.

It was a rather unimposing looking girl, Everett swore he'd heard her name before, but right now he couldn't remember it even if his life depended on it. She was asking if he was okay.

Everett closed his eyes (the action of which sent a few more tears rolling down his face.) and inhaled softly. "I mean, I guess I'm as okay as I can be in thi—"

An interruption. Another voice, one that Everett instantly recognized.

It was Michael fucking Crowe.

Now, saying Everett wasn't all too fond of Michael was another huge understatement. Everett, of course, knew him by his reputation as a brawler, but also from Michael constantly buffeting him with fat jokes—as if Everett needed someone to acerbate his esteem issues. Of course, usually Everett tried his best to hide his disdain for Michael, he had appearances to keep up, and ending up in a verbal/physical sparring match with someone certainly wouldn't look great on a resume. But as of now, though, that wasn't much of a problem anymore.

Not thinking, Everett blurted out an aggravated "Does it look like I'm fucking okay?".

He didn't really realize that he just contradicted himself, or that Michael might just shoot him in the back.

"S-Sorry..." Everett stammered. He gestured to the stranded duffel atop the shipping container. "My bag is stuck up there."
Edited by Kermit, Aug 11 2017, 09:13 PM.


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Scarlett was relieved to know that Everett wasn't being hostile towards her. It was a good thing to her as she didn't want to start things on the wrong foot with him. She really wanted to have a friend right now and she didn't even mind if it was a guy that she didn't really know and didn't know his name. Well, she could learn it soon. He possibly didn't even know who she was. At least he was speaking to her and-

And then there was someone's else voice that was asking pretty much the same question as her. It was coming from none other than Michael Crowe. Scarlett knew him. He was basically a bully who got into fights and he got on people's nerves in general.

She felt herself glaring at Michael as he called Everett a name and he had snapped at Michael just then. It surprised Scarlett a little, but it seemed to be completely justified. She really didn't like bullies like Michael.

Everett was then saying that his bag was stuck on the container and Scarlett strolled over to be beside Everett, peeking up at it. "Well, I'm sure that we can get it down somehow." She said positively. "Michael, do you think that you can gives us a hand with this?"
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Simon Leroy (Thanks to Kami!) - Deceased

Scarlett McAfee

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ItzToxie
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"Damn man, I was just asking." Yeah Mike, and it was a pretty stupid question. Teach got his brains blown out, and chances are everyone here wouldn't fare much better. You really know how to point out the obvious. Though Everett did point out the thing that was irking him pretty bad, his bag was on top of one of the shipping containers.

"Yeah, that seems like a pretty shitty deal you caught..." Honestly, that was a pretty good reason to be worried. Everything you have is in that bag, food, water, your weapons. Michael wasn't sure how long someone could go without food, but he knew someone could die of dehydration within 3 days if shit went wrong. If Everett couldn't get that bag...

"Aight, don't worry about it, my John Belushi looking buddy, I got this!" Michael laid his targe and bag to the side, walking up to the shipping container. Michael rubbed his hands as his head tilted up, looking at the container's height. He hopped up, reaching his arm up towards the bag, missing it by nearly a foot. He tried again, and got about just as close as he did the last time. "Shit!" One more time, he attempted it again. Again he failed. "Shit-fuck!"

He looked up at the bag and realized he would probably need a running start. "Alright, alright, that was just a warmup. I still got this!" He took a few steps back and bolted forwards, planting his feet on the wall of the container and pushing up.

He was still short of grabbing it. At this point, he realized that this tactic wasn't going to work, and he was going to have to change up some things.

"I.... don't got this." He paused looking back up at the at the bag. "Okay, no problem, no problem, this son of a bitch wants to be difficult, it can be difficult!" He started walking back to his shield, grabbing it and walking back to the bag. All he needed was a nice toss and boom, bag is down, everyone is happy.

He walked up and lobbed the shield at the bag, expecting to hit it and be done with it. Instead, the shield tapped the bag and rested right on top of it, balancing over it just to taunt Michael further. Even worse, Michael realized something much more simple could have been done that would have worked just fine.

"Fuck..."

He could have just jumped up there again and slapped the bag with his shield, but now both were up there, so the easiest possible method was done for. Michael decided he wouldn't mention that part.

"Okay... So... anyone got a plan cee through zee?"
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Kermit
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[ *  * ]
Everett turned around to look at the shipping container and took a few steps back. Now, he could see both the girl and Michael. Everett couldn't see any weapon on the girl, and Michael had a shield, which was welcome news for Everett, unless it was secretly a gun that looked like a shield. That was unlikely, though.

Michael called Everett what he thought was some 80's reference to a fat guy, and proceeded to the area under the bag. Everett inwardly sighed. Well, at least Michael was actually trying to help him.

And try Michael did.

Everett would've laughed at Michael's repeated failures, had said failures not been the act of retrieving something that might save Everett's life. Sadly, though, that wasn't the case, so here Everett was, wallowing in his own misery. Michael somehow managed to even get his weapon stuck up on the crate in the process.

Everett couldn't believe he was going to die because some terrorist got sloppy with their bag-throwing.

But then, Everett realized something. Michael was strong. The girl looked pretty lightweight. Lightbulb!

"Michael, do you think you could boost her up there?", he asked.


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Watching Michael trying so many times to get the bag was pretty much hilarious to Scarlett. She had to cover her mouth with her hands to hold back the giggles. It felt like she was watching Michael praticing retakes for an action movie. But sadly, this was more realistic. She was realising that it was not a dream. It was a real-life nightmare.

Scarlett couldn't believe that Michael's shield was stuck up there with the bag now. It really had made things more difficult for them. If only they had a ladder to climb up to get the belongings.

Then Everett spoke up about Michael holding her up to get the items. She could feel herself feeling impressed by his suggestion. She was also a bit embarrassed as she never had the experience of a guy lifting her up before. However, she was willing to do it to help out the both of them.

"That's a great idea!" She beamed brightly at Everett and then she nodded to Michael. "We should definitely do it. We can't just leave the stuff up there. I don't want to be the only one with everything on me, you know."
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Simon Leroy (Thanks to Kami!) - Deceased

Scarlett McAfee

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ItzToxie
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He sat there, looking up at the pile of stuff that dangled above him. It was just sitting there, mocking him. The shield was there rocking back and forth, just hovering up there on top of the bag, almost like it was laughing at him. If this happened to anyone else, this would be hysterical, but due to the fact it was happening to him, it wasn't very funny. Well... right now it wasn't. If Michael lived long enough to leave the island, he'd probably laugh about it later on.

Everett said something that knocked him out of his momentary day dreaming. "Oh, what? Oh yeah..." Michael kind of replied without really paying attention, before he replayed the words again in his head. "Actually, yeah, yeah! Fucking hell Big guy, that's a great idea!" Honestly, that was probably the most simplistic way to get everything, no crazy strings attached, practically foolproof. Michael crouched down under the container, taking a quick glance at Scarlett, hoping she wasn't wearing any heels. He was relieved to see converse type sneakers.

"Aight, just promise me if you gotta climb up on my shoulders, you won't scuff the jacket too bad."
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Kermit
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Hey, alright! This—well, it wasn't good, but it was as close to good as it could be. Fortunately for Everett, eighties boy and the girl both agreed to his plan, which meant...

It meant that maybe Everett would live. Of course, if there was a gun in the bag up there, it'd mean he'd have to shoot someone—to murder someone—to survive, but that bridge would be crossed when the time came. At least, that's what Everett told himself.

Everett supposed that in some way, he'd be indebted to two helping him out, but that too would be dealt with at a later date—assuming he managed to live that long. If this worked out, dealing with Michael's shit would prove an arduous task indeed.

He just hoped Michael wouldn't find a way to fuck up again.


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Scarlett let out a chuckle over Michael worrying about his jacket. It was sweet to see. "I can't make any promises that I won't, Michael." She said jokingly to lighten the mood around them more. "Alright, I'll try to be careful. Okay?"

She moved over to where Michael was crouched and she climbed onto his shoulders as carefully as she could. She was really glad that she had the great balance for this. She honestly never thought that she would be doing something like this. But if it was to help someone else, she was willing to do so. She always wanted to be that type of person.

"Okay. So I am ready for this. Don't let me fall, Michael."
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Simon Leroy (Thanks to Kami!) - Deceased

Scarlett McAfee

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"Alright, I gotcha, don't worry about it!" Michael reached his arms up and grabbed Scarlett by the ankles as he slowly raised upwards, making sure not to go too fast or lean too far in one direction.

This should work at least. He still couldn't get over the fact he fucked up so terribly with the shield toss. Man, he's got shitty aim, good thing he didn't get a gun, right? He wondered either Scarlett or Everett got a gun in their bag? Shit that'd be cool. "Hey Everett, bet you there's something good in your bag? Like some big ass shotgun or somethin'? Bet they wouldn't put that bag up there unless there was something really crazy in it, right?"

Michael started thinking about what weapons the other kids probably got. Probably like a lot of guns and machetes 'n shit. Then again, maybe real weapons were rare. Maybe most people got some pots and snowglobes, y'know? He hoped it was the latter, it'd mean less people suddenly growing nuts once they get a gun in their hands, it'd mean less people trying shit they'd never try back home. If it was the former... Well shit.

He should probably get something to go with the shield too, to be honest. A trident would be pretty bitching. He pulled himself out of his daydreaming as he remembered he was supposed to be doing shit right now.

"Ay, you got the shit up there yet?"
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Kermit
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So, now Michael was boosting the girl up. Everett had his fingers crossed that Michael wouldn't accidentally drop the girl and break her neck or something. Michael was hoping that there'd be a gun in Everett's bag. Let's just hope that's not because he'll steal it if it ends up being a gun.

"God, I really hope it's a gun.", Everett muttered.

Everett had no idea whatsoever how to actually use a gun, but if his weapon was a roll of toilet paper or a porno mag or something useless, he'd probably just jump into the icy depths below. If he got a weapon, it wasn't like he was gonna go out and murder people willy-nilly, but self defense was vital here.

"If the shield's too heavy to lift down, you could probably just toss it down. It's probably pretty sturdy because, well, shields are supposed to be sturdy." If the girl just tossed Everett's bag down, something might break, and that would be not-good. Everett continued. "Uh, I can grab the bag once you've got it."


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"I got it!"

Scarlett was definitely sounding more optimistic about the scenario more than she should have been. The truth is, is that she was putting on a brave face for the other two. She didn't want to show that she was scared as heck about what was happening to them. She didn't even want to think about it. Just the thought of them killing each other made a shiver going up her spine. She didn't think that she could have the will to bear it when the time would come.

She was now concentrating on getting Michael's shield and Everett's bag. She listened to what Everett was saying and she had to agree with his words. It would be better if she just chucked the shield down first. Then it would be a lot easier for her to get the bag.

She took a hold of the shield and she got ready to toss it to the ground. "Okay. I'm going to pass the shield down now." She said loudly before throwing to the ground and she was relieved that it didn't make contact with either of the boys. "Now I just need to.... Ah! There we go!"

She was holding the bag in her left hand and she then held it out for Everett to take from her. "Here you go, uh.... Sorry, what's your name?" She asked, feeling a bit embarrassed. "My name is Scarlett. Scarlett McAfee by the way. I wished that we couldn't have interacted with each other like this."
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Simon Leroy (Thanks to Kami!) - Deceased

Scarlett McAfee

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Michael stood up, pressing his hands into his back as it let out a satisfying pop. Well, everything was right in the world once again. Michael was reunited with his targe, Everett wasn't going to die of less-than-natural causes for the moment. Everything was right again...

Well, not everything, they were still probably gonna get got by some prick with an m16 most likely. Michael's glance caught the ire of one of the cameras staring at the group. Michael realized it watched them as they metaphorically spit in it's face. They threw that bag up there deliberately, the expected Everett would probably be the first to die, no one would help him, and that bag would remain up there. Michael could feel good that he proved them wrong.

"Suck it bitches! That's called teamwork!" Michael showed the camera his favorite finger as he taunted it.

He turned and picked up his shield, turning towards Scarlett and Man-Mountain.

"Aight, so... What's the plan now?"
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